


I'll Put You Back Together

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Episode Tag, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Make up sex, No Spoilers, Smut, Star City 2046
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“If love is a battlefield, makeup sex is the best part of the ceasefire.”―Jillian Stone</i>
</p><p>Len has a surprise for Mick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Put You Back Together

**Author's Note:**

> tonight was the rerun of Star City 2046, felt the need to write a little fic for it. Couldn't resist the idea of Len wearing that ridiculous fur coat to seduce Mick and smooth things over. Mostly just tender PWP, not beta'd. Enjoy!

Len feels the unusual ache of nerves thrumming in his veins. He’s kneeling in the middle of Mick’s bed, naked aside from one crucial item, half hard and shaking. He’s not even sure Mick saw the note he left, he’s definitely not sure Mick will even show up regardless. It’s Mick’s room, so realistically speaking the man has to come back at some point—but Len knows better than to underestimate his partner. When Mick wants to stay apart, Mick will make it happen. Len wants to lean down and take some pressure off his knees, but doesn’t. He reminds himself that this whole display—being open and vulnerable just for Mick—is more important than anything now.

The soft _click_ of the door opening has Len’s body stiffening and his attention focusing again. Len lets his arms hang limp at his sides and doesn’t try to adjust when the fur coat starts to slip off one shoulder. Mick stands stock still in the doorway, eyes raking endlessly over Len’s body. Faintly, Len wonders if he looks more ridiculous than alluring; the fur coat had been overly baggy on Mick’s broad frame so on Len it’s a miracle it even stays on.

Len keeps silent even when Mick steps into the room and begins to strip. By the time Mick stands beside the bed, he’s completely naked and his prick is at full attention. It soothes some of Len’s nerves, but the silence is still too tense. Len tilts his head toward Mick and meets his eyes. He doesn’t flinch when Mick reaches out to brush fingertips along his jaw. Rather, Len leans into the touch and kisses the burning palm of Mick’s hand.

Mick inhales sharply. He moves even closer and presses a knee into the bed. He leans into Len’s space and trails his free hand across the course fur of the coat. “Didn’t think you’d really be here.” Mick murmurs.

“Told you I would be.” Len counters, shivering as Mick’s touch brushes his exposed shoulder. The tension seeps from the room slowly; the closer they get to one another the softer the air becomes.

Soon, Mick is kneeling on the bed as well and his knees are knocking against Len’s. “All dressed up for me.” Mick remarks as his hand skims over Len’s nude body.

It garners a chuckle from Len followed quickly by another shiver.

Mick tilts his head toward Len and then they’re kissing, for the first time in weeks. Things have been tense aboard the Waverider, and Len feels desperate enough to admit he’s missed Mick’s touch. He’s so caught up in getting familiar with Mick’s mouth again; he almost misses it when the other man starts to mumble.

“You look fuckin’ ridiculous, Lenny.” Mick’s words are muffled by the way his lips are practically glued to Len’s neck. He’s kissing and nipping and suckling red marks into Len’s pale skin. “That thing looks like s’gonna swallow you whole.” Mick’s fingers pluck at the folds of the fur coat, but he makes no move to remove it.

Len’s arms are still hanging at his sides, waiting patiently for Mick to give permission. Mick doesn’t, instead lavishing attention to Len’s collarbones and juncture of his neck and shoulder. Len fast becomes impatient. “This is supposed to be a gift for _you_ , Mick.”

Mick’s laugh is a low rumble, like thunder in the distance. “You wearin’ this ridiculous thing, letting me have my wicked way with you? Can’t think of anything better.” Mick kisses Len on the mouth again; he licks insistently into Len’s mouth and dominates the kiss, tilting Len back until they’re sprawled on the bed. The coat spills out beneath Len’s body and Mick sits back to admire the image. Len looks impossibly small surrounded by the coat and with Mick’s shadow looming over him.

“You gonna actually do something?” Len taunts without heat in his tone. His voice is a rasping whisper, but it feels incredibly loud to his own ears.

Mick lowers himself so his and Len’s bodies are perfectly aligned, every dip and curve of their body slotting together easily. “Gonna take my time.” His voice is like a storm to Len’s ears. The grit in his tone is like rain pounding on a window or wind rattling the branches of a tree. His breath is hot against Len’s lips and every word is like the ghost of a kiss. Mick cages Len’s head with his arms and stares down at him curiously, intently. “M’sorry.” Mick murmurs as he gently kisses Len’s forehead.

Len stiffens. They don’t apologize to each other. Serious, deep talks aren’t really their _thing_. Physicality—in whatever form—is their _thing_. Sex, regardless of if it’s rough or tender, is their _thing_. Len freezes and can’t help but shake in fear.

Mick isn’t deterred. “M’sorry, Lenny. I want to stick by your side. Even if that means bein’ a goody-two-shoes for a while.” Mick peppers kisses along Len’s hairline as he waits for an answer.

Len’s mouth feels dry but he draws up the nerve to answer anyway. “I’m sorry too.” He speaks slowly, considers his words carefully. “I need you by my side.” He admits. He finally raises a hand to cup Mick’s cheek. “Things don’t have to change that much.”

Mick’s snort isn’t derisive but it still scares Len for a brief moment. “Things already changed, Len.” Mick, just as Len had before, leans into the touch against his face. “But that’s okay.” When Mick kisses Len this time, it’s filthy and full of promise. The blanket of emotion that had drifted over them as they talked doesn’t vanish, but it shifts. Words again become unnecessary and instead all they need is their bodies.

Len wraps his legs around Mick’s waist and the angle only gets better. Their cocks glide together and the brief catches of friction spur them to keep going. Mick’s fingers drift down Len’s chest, bypassing his prick, to find his hole already slick and stretched. Mick smirks. “For me?” He teases, earning a pinch from Len. Mick slips a finger inside Len and moves it slowly, searching for the spot inside Len that’ll make him shout.

Len bites his lip hard enough to bleed when Mick’s finger brushes his prostate, holding back his sounds. It’s only after Mick shoots him a reprimanding glare that Len caves, lets his moans and gasps trickle from his lips. They start soft, at first, but as Mick works two, then three fingers inside Len the sounds grow louder and more desperate. Mick relentlessly lavishes attention to Len’s prostate until the other is nearly thrashing in the bed.

By the time Mick finally pulls his fingers out, Len is sweating and the fur coat is clinging to his slick skin. Len has one hand curled around a pillow and the other gripping Mick’s shoulder. Mick’s own hands are focused on Len’s hips; he breaks that focus only to guide his cock inside Len’s slick hole and doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated. When Mick stills, Len inhales greedily. He flexes his fingers on Mick’s shoulder and urges him closer.

Mick obeys, falling forward again to cage Len’s body with his own. Len’s legs drape over Mick’s thighs easily, and Mick’s hips glide as he fucks deeper and harder into Len’s body. Len gasps every time Mick’s cock drags across his prostate, moans each time his own prick rubs against Mick’s stomach. Len’s back arches for more friction and Mick moves quicker to provide.

“Lenny,” Mick hisses, breathless, “fuck, I missed this.”

The words fill Len’s chest with warmth. He nods jerkily, nearly head-butting Mick. “Yeah—me too.” He agrees. The fur of the coat scratches against his skin but rather than being irritating it only ignites sparks of pleasure. He feels too hot, between the suffocating jacket and Mick’s solid weight against him—Len feels like he’s drowning in heat and heady pleasure. “Please, Mick,” Len clenches around Mick’s cock to draw him in deeper, “please.”

Mick groans and his head lolls forward. He presses against Len’s shoulder and his thrusts turn erratic and wild. He stops pulling out completely and instead rolls his hips against Len, grinding deep inside him. Mick kisses at Len’s mouth, missing his mark and instead smearing his lips messily across Len’s face. Len laughs into the gesture and tilts his head to get a better angle. His and Mick’s lips come together and they swallow each other’s sounds.

Len lets himself succumb to the heat and lets Mick pound into his body and lets the pleasure overwhelm him. He moans against Mick’s lips, _please, c’mon, Mick, now, do it, please, fuck_. Mick groans right back, _Lenny, shit, you feel—fuck, I love_. Mick bites Len’s lip as he comes, nearly hard enough to draw blood.

Len shudders at the feeling of Mick’s come filling him, marking him inside. They’re both possessive and this sates them both, the feeling of owning and being owned by the other.

Mick soothes Len’s lip with his tongue, at the same time he wraps a calloused hand around Len’s prick. Len comes after three quick, firm strokes and his come splatters across Mick’s stomach and scars.

Hardly a moment of the afterglow has passed before Len starts to struggle. He’s shoving at the enormous fur coat and Mick laughs rather than helping. Len smiles even as he shoots Mick a lackluster glare. Eventually, the coat slips to the ground and Len immediately feels less cased in. He breathes in the open, sex-scented air eagerly. The heat is fast dissipating and their skin is settling to a pleasantly cool temperature.

Or at least, pleasant for Len. It’s his turn to laugh when Mick makes a displeased face and grumbles something about clammy come. Len settles back and lets Mick do the cleanup, but welcomes Mick back with open arms and a hungry mouth. Mick fits easily into Len’s grasp and returns the barrage of kisses with his own. The kisses turn lazy and full of laughter, and before long Len can feel the pull of sleep tugging at him.

He presses closer to Mick. “Thank you,” he whispers as he nuzzles Mick’s face. “Thank you for staying.”

Mick kisses the crown of Len’s head. “Thank you,” he counters, “for making me.”


End file.
